The Way of War
by Rubeus
Summary: Rated PG 13 for violence and language. Basically, it's how Migel came to be in the Dragon Slayers. Oddly enough, this story was inspired by a storm documentary. Still Under construction.
1. Chapter one

*Welcome to random Dilandau Story theater. I am your Host.. Kokuei. Anyway, This is once again, another Random Dilandau story. I don't know where Dilandau's Chaos is going.. I'm working on another chapter as I work on this story. So anyway, please enjoy.. *  
  
*Also, some other notes: I don't know the Geography of Gaia, so There are going to be some made up countries in this story, just so I can work with the story line and what not. Please don't flame me about it unless you can provide me with all the Geographic knowledge of Gaia that I need. Thanks a bundle. ^^  
  
ANOTHER note: Escaflowne does not belong to me. It belongs to its original creators, Sunrise and whatnot.*  
  
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Dilandau stood on balcony of his room, which gave a direct view of the ship below. He stared out over the vast waters, in anticipation.  
  
Folken had sent him to deal with the inhabitants of Reydeen, who's leaders had broken a treaty made after Zaibach attacked, looking for some slaves to take back.  
  
They had grabbed a few people, but not enough to replace the crop workers that had died of plague. They had agreed that they would stop attacking if Reydeen were to provide them with some more slaves..  
  
Dilandau licked his lips. Kill the weak, and spare the strong for a life of turmoil and slavery. He could beat the going-to-be-slaves senseless if he wanted, just so long as they were able to work.  
  
//Maybe I'll even grab myself a few extras, for myself.. //  
  
He laughed, and left his personal deck, heading down to the poop deck. His elite were engaged in amiable conversation, something about the political structure of Asturia as compared to Zaibach.  
  
"Attention!" Gatti barked in mid sentence. They all quickly assembled into a sloppy line, arms tight by their sides, eyes staring blankly ahead at whatever was in front of them.  
  
Dilandau growled in frustration, and knocked Gatti in the jaw.  
  
"Dammit! My men can't even get into a straight line without confusion! How the hell are you going to be able to stand up to a few backwater farmers?!"  
  
Gatti fell to his knees, right fist supporting his weight in a crouch.  
  
"Forgive me my lord.. " He said, not sure what else to say. Dilandau growled, and kicked Gatti in the face. He fell backwards onto the polished deck, now sporting two new bruises on his face.  
  
He sighed, and walked down the line, to a somewhat tall boy. Blonde hair fell over his shoulder in mild locks. His curls weren't as accentuated as his brother Guimel's, but the length made up for it. He was taller than the rest of them. Dilandau looked up at him, and narrowed his eyes.  
  
"What does the Coast Guard say about the weather tonight, Zion?"  
  
"Sir, there is a storm heading this way from Reydeen, but it's estimated that at 02:00 it is supposed to head west, sir."  
  
"How bad is it?"  
  
"Sir, reports say that it gets worse at the center. We are only supposed to hit a light drizzle."  
  
Dilandau nodded, and looked around the boat, wondering briefly if all his extra guards that Folken had provided him with were sleeping, rather than doing something useful like exercising, or bettering their combat skills..  
  
He sighed, looking down at his feet.  
  
"Dismissed." He said, and wandered off, bored to the point of tears. They hadn't brought their guymelefs with them this time, so it was a bit odd not running the routine system checks. There wasn't a decent training center on this ship, and it was a pain in the ass to wait for when the dining hall was empty, because it was almost always full..  
  
There was the bottom of the ship, but that was so dank and horrible, it had been reserved for the captives.  
  
He stared out over the vast, ripping waters. Sure enough, there was a dark, unwelcoming embankment of clouds heading their way. If it was bad enough, it would delay their arrival to the south coast of Reydeen..  
  
He sighed, and walked off towards his quarters. He nearly got hard at the thought of so many lives in his hands. It was an exhilarating thought. He folded his arms in front of him, and wandered off, smiling brightly.  
  
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Migel awoke, with the sun shining on his face. It was warm and welcoming; the sign of a new day. He sat up from his bed, which was simply a few sheets thrown on a harsh wooden floor with a thin and worn pillow. Around the room was scattered his meager belongings; a few sketches, some pencils, torn and ripped clothing, and a pair of ancient shoes in the corner that looked like they could rip if worn one more time.  
  
There wasn't any sound through the rest of the house, everyone was probably still asleep. He smiled.  
  
//I'll go out hunting, and bring back a few scrumptious catches or two. They would be so happy..//  
  
he quietly slipped out of his bed, and threw on some of the clothing on the floor. It was ripped pair of thick, blue jean harvesting pants, which also looked like they would fall apart any minute. They were especially thick to keep random critters and deadly spiders from attacking as you harvested the fields. They had been mended many times, but Migel was grateful to have them. He slipped into the worn boots, ran through his hair with two fingers, and slipped out the house, barely noticeable.  
  
It was somewhat chilly out, so he grabbed a sweater that his mother had made for him. It was a pale red, made of sheep's wool. It was kind of itchy, but It was better than nothing. He walked around the corner of the small house, to where all of the weaponry was kept. It was a meager selection; some hand made bows and arrows, a few rusted hunks of metal that his father called swords, and a few hatchets resting against the walls. He grabbed some of his fathers arrows, and examined each briefly, before slinging a small cylindrical basket over his shoulder, and plopping the arrows in. He grabbed the largest bow that his father had made, and it was still a little small for him. He was the tallest of the family now, his father said that he had gotten it from his grandfather, who had also been extremely tall.  
  
He set off, out of the misty little village, towards the woods just east of the little farming city. To the south were the fields, and to the north, the mountains that always blew in the cold weather in the morning.  
  
The forest seemed eerily still today. No matter how hard Migel strained his ears, he couldn't hear not one chirp, not one branch cracking under the weight of some animal's foot. It was fairly odd, but he shrugged the feeling off as a mere superstition.  
  
He continued deeper into the woods, it was a good two or three hours walk before he would come across some real game anyway, so there wasn't much harm in worrying.  
  
By noontime, the sun was beating down hard and relentless of those who dwelled beneath her. Migel slipped off the sweater, and hung it on a branch. He was wearing a somewhat new looking (but still somewhat tattered in overall appearance) light blue tunic. He sat to rest on a rock, and realized the pang of hunger in his gut. There were many edible fruits and nuts around him; he just wasn't sure which were the poisonous ones. He growled, and moaned something inaudible, suddenly realizing he should have thought his escapade through a little bit better. He tipped his head back, and stared at the sky, letting the gentle breeze caress his sweat slicken face. It was a wonderful feeling, the cool breeze on a hot day. He took in each breeze, as if they were his last breaths.  
  
Suddenly there was a slight pounding sound off in the distance. Migel froze, thinking that maybe it was a herd of deer. He readied himself with bow and arrow, and found a place to hide behind the rock he had rested on. He sat in wait, until the pounding grew closer and closer..  
  
As the animals creating the sound grew into view, Migel realized they were horses, and on them sat soldiers, in cruel looking armor that looked as if it could stand up to any of the natural disasters that mother nature had to offer.  
  
Migel cowered, recognizing them as Zaibach soldiers. He had assisted in the war to keep their people free, by volunteering in the medical tents. He had helped many wounded Zaibachians. He narrowed his eyes.  
  
//What do they want now?//  
  
He stood, and got up onto the rock, trying to get a better look. They probably weren't here for him, and probably wouldn't notice them.  
  
There were about 20 on horseback, all bearing swords on their hips. Migel frowned, and kneeled down on the rock.  
  
They went speeding by, not noticing him, as he had predicted. Their leader, or so he seemed, wore a red over coat on top of his armor, it's hems and edges trimmed in gold. He looked especially cruel; wicked smile playing on his lips, bloodlust reflected in his eyes.  
  
When they were well out of site, Migel had a sudden feeling of impending doom that he could not shake off. He grabbed his sweater, and ran back towards the village, as fast as he could go. His blood was pounding in his throat, and all he could think about was the well being of his family, and his little brother..  
  
//Gods.. please.. protect them..// 


	2. Chapter two

Migel ran as fast as he could. He could smell smoke, and prayed that it was someone cooking their morning meal. In the distance, he could see black plumes of smoke, spiraling into the sky..  
  
He ran until the world around him became nothing but a blur of green and brown. His legs hurt so badly, and he was in dire need of some food and water. He stopped at the edge of the village, gasping for breath. All he could see was the bright orange light of the flames. They surrounded him, their cruel, menacing curls looking like the smiles of devils. Smoke drifted from between their teeth and over to him, trying to suffocate him in their putrid fumes. He coughed, and looked about hopelessly for his family, ignoring the taunts of the demons in the blaze.  
  
He felt a sudden pang of panic, and ran into the blazing village. His house was towards the center of the village. It was so hard to run in this extreme heat, but he pumped his legs faster and faster, even though there was no air left in his lungs to support him.  
  
He saw several of the Zaibachians on horseback, taking away captives who were bound in rope and struggling helplessly upon the horses backs. He ran faster, fearing for his and his family's life.  
  
"Shit.. Oh god.. shit.."  
  
He saw a blonde soldier at his house, holding his mother up to him with his sword. She was frozen with fear, staring down at the bloodied corpse of his father. Claes, his brother, was no where to be seen. Hopefully, he had escaped, and not been caught in the inferno that was their house.  
  
His mother caught site of Migel. She began screaming something that he could not hear over the other screams around him, but he knew what she was saying:  
  
"Run."  
  
Migel shook his head, and cautiously walked up to another soldier that stood triumphantly over his father's body. He stood for quite some time behind the other boy, whose curly blonde hair was dampened with his sweat.  
  
"It just makes my heart pound.." he laughed, and kicked the body to the side. The other soldier holding his mother didn't seem to notice him; he was far too interested in fondling his mother's body. She was quite young and beautiful, but the thought of that happening to her sickened him. He slowly, soundlessly, readied his bow and arrow. He held the cruel metal point to the back of the other's neck.  
  
"Let her go." He said quietly.  
  
"Guimel!" The other cried out, but still held his mother to his chest.  
  
"Let her go!" He said, and pressed the point into his neck. Some blood trickled out from the wound, tickling the hairs on his neck.  
  
"Zion.. Let her go!" Guimel moaned, his heart pounding. He had never been in a situation where he was the one who could die at another's will..  
  
Zion growled, and sliced through the tender flesh of his mother's neck. Migel stood, frozen, paralyzed. That hadn't just happened.. had it? The crimson blood flowed so easily onto her white dress, and onto the ground. She let out a futile cry, almost a squeak, pleading for her son to help her. But Migel didn't know what to do..  
  
She fell to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was growing paler by the minute, and all Migel could do was watch in horror, helpless, as his mother died before him. She fell forward, her eyes glazed over and staring helplessly at whatever lay in front of her.  
  
"Ha! No point in killing him! Your mother is dead, little boy! What are you going to do about it!?"  
  
He stepped over the body, towards Migel. He had his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw.  
  
"Now just come along quietly boy, and you won't have to die."  
  
Guimel spun around, and drew his sword, holding it point first to Migel's neck. Migel still held the arrow strung back tight, ready to leap out at its victim. It's cruel menacing tip craved blood, and blood it would get.  
  
"Put the arrow down." Guimel said. Migel laughed, and let go of the arrow. It went flying off, away from the Guimel.  
  
"Oh my God, Zion, he missed me! How pathetic!"  
  
"I didn't miss anything." Migel said coldly. Guimel's face went suddenly pale. He turned to see his brother, standing frozen in shock. The arrow had pierced straight through his neck. He fell to his knees, like Migel's mother did, reaching out from his brother's help. He couldn't even breathe, much less cry for help. Zion died quicker than his mother did, falling to the ground with a loud thump.  
  
Guimel and Migel stood, emotionless, trying to comprehend what had happened for several moments. Dilandau rode up on his horse, laughing.  
  
"This is so much fun!" He had two unconscious captives on the back if his horse. He held his right hand high, with a torch in hand. The albino looked down to the ground where his soldier lay, and sighed.  
  
"What a pathetic display." He said, and dropped the torch next to the boy's body. His dragon leather's caught flame quickly.  
  
"But there's no harm in burning the body." He laughed. "Well, in any case, I figured his recklessness would get him killed some day. It's just the way of war, you know.." Dilandau turned his attention to Guimel, and waved his free hand towards Migel.  
  
"Guimel, take that boy. He looks strong enough."  
  
Guimel didn't reply to his commander. He stared helplessly at his brother's body, which was burning quickly. You could already smell the flesh, strong and putrid. Migel wanted to vomit.  
  
"Guimel!" He screamed in anger, and dismounted. He smacked the boy hard. Guimel fell backwards, holding his face. He hit the ground with a loud thump, and looked around momentarily, like a lost puppy. Then, he curled up, head resting on his knees, and began to cry.  
  
Dilandau kicked him, screaming in frustration. "Fine! I'll do it the fuck myself! I swear, I can't depend on you for anything! And your brother was even worse! I'm glad he's dead!"  
  
Guimel looked up, and sniffled, quickly regaining his composure.  
  
"I'm sorry sir."  
  
"Better be."  
  
Dilandau turned his attention to Migel, who was staring at his bow and arrow. Dilandau smacked him, and the weapons went flying from his grasp. He fell backwards, befuddled momentarily. After realizing what had just happened, he stared up at this man, no.. boy with contempt for what he had done to his village, his family. Everything he had ever held dear to him was gone.  
  
"That's for killing one of my men. Maybe you'll learn that you don't fuck with us, slave." He kicked Migel's temple with his boot. He gasped, and fell onto his back, his world turning black around him. He could feel blood trickling down the side of his head, and onto the ground. He prayed that he would die of a concussion. He felt two armored hands pick him up and throw him onto the rump of a horse. His stomach lurched when he saw the ground moving beneath him. Migel wasn't sure if he had vomited from the dizzying point of view, but he was pretty sure he did. His stomach jumped at each akward bounce, and when they started galloping is when it got really bad. Eventually, he just couldn't take it anymore, and closed his eyes. He just wanted this horrible new reality that had been thrust upon him to go away. Let it be a dream. Just let it fade away, and be a dream..  
  
Just let It fade away. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------  
  
Migel awoke in some cruel looking little room, cram packed with other people. Mostly young men and able women, it seemed.. all from the village. He recognized faces, but couldn't place names with them. His head spun, and the room seemed to be swaying gently, which didn't make the situation any better. He looked around, and realized the room actually was swaying.. they were on a ship. The room was dank and humid, and there didn't seem to be much light or air circulation provided, which could make for some very unpleasant situations later on. If someone got sick and threw up, (him for example) the rest of the passengers would just have to deal with the smell for the rest of the trip.  
  
He let his head rest on the cold metal wall. This was all a bit too much to handle for one day, and it seemed to go by so quick, that it had to be a dream. He felt himself getting sicker by the minute. He desperately needed some medical attention, or else he could die of a concussion. Although he had been wishing for it earlier, he realized that he wanted to live on, so he could avenge his family.. or.. do something the commemorate them.. he didn't know what, but the felt that he had to stay alive.  
  
He placed a supportive hand on the wall, and pulled himself up. He shakily stepped over several bound and unconscious people, over to the two guards by the doorway. He felt it was a futile attempt to ask for some medical attention, but it was worth a try.  
  
"I.. I think I need some.. um.." the room temporarily turned black. But he quickly regained his composure, and continued from where he left off.  
  
"I think I have a concussion.. I.. can I have some.. medical attention? Or something?"  
  
The guard narrowed his eyes at the boy, and with a slight wave of the hand, the other guard ran up the stairs.  
  
"This is only because we have strict orders to prevent any death amongst the captives. You are sorely needed in Zaibach."  
  
"I thank you, sir.."  
  
The guard rolled his eyes, and pushed Migel to his knees. "Sit down before you pass out, boy."  
  
He sighed, and crossed his legs.  
  
It seemed to take hours for the other guard to return with someone who might have been of some help. He looked like he was a soldier, not a medical professional. But his smile was soft and caring, his eyes showing a certain level of tenderness that Migel felt he could trust.  
  
He held out a welcoming hand to help the boy to his feet. He smiled warm, and spoke with a voice that didn't seem to fit with a boy in cruel looking armor like his.  
  
"Hello, my name is Chesta." 


	3. Chapter three

Migel fumbled for the hand that was offered to him.  
  
"Thank you so much.." he mumbled, and fell into Chesta's arms, unconscious. Chesta smiled sadly, and scooped the boy into his arms as if he weighed nothing. He walked up the stairs, cradling the stricken boy.  
  
"Poor thing.. what have they done to you?" he whispered.  
  
He took him to his room. There were first aid kits in all the quarters, and usually more than one bed, even though there were enough rooms to give each individual his own.  
  
Chesta lay him on the extra bed, and went to fetch a cooling pack. He had luckily not been part of the rampage; Dilandau had ordered him to stay behind and prepare the bottom deck for the captives. He felt incredibly sorry about what Zaibach was doing to those poor farmers, but what say did he have? It was Zaibach who took him from the orphanage and fed him. It was Zaibach that made him into the man he was today, and the most thanks he could give was to oblige blindly.  
  
He placed the small cooling pack on the side of Migel's head. It was still bleeding, which was good; that meant that it actually wasn't a concussion. But his breathing was somewhat labored, and he wheezed as he slept.  
  
//He must have breathed in too much smoke..// he thought, and placed a hand on the boy's head. He wasn't running a fever, which was good as well. He wasn't sure why a fever would have connection to his injuries, but the doctors at the infirmary always checked to see if he had a fever when he had been injured.  
  
He briefly examined the rest of his body, to make sure there was no further damage. In the first aid kit, there was a small pair of scissors. He used them to cut off his shirt, and check his torso for injury as well. He was always taught to move the injured as little as possible; it might make the injuries even worse. He didn't want to wake the boy, either..  
  
He pulled some peroxide from the first aid kit, and dropped some on a cotton ball. His head looked like it hurt, so he dabbed at his temple gingerly. Migel winced, but didn't wake. He seemed fully aware that there was someone tending to his body, but he couldn't shake himself from sleep. He began shivering slightly, so when he was done, he covered the boy up as much as he could. From what he had heard around the ship, it was supposed to be a bitter night. The seasons were drawing on closer to winter, which made travel by water dangerous on the Gaian seas.  
  
The boy sighed, and went to sit in a lounger in between the two beds. It also served as a nightstand for Chesta sometimes, so he had to move his clothing and miscellaneous-what-nots onto the floor. He looked at the boy with sad eyes.  
  
"Damn them.. " he mumbled.  
  
He sat for however long, watching Migel's chest rise and fall. He stayed awake for as long as he possibly could, just to make sure if the boy wanted anything, that he could fetch it for him. Chesta wondered briefly why they were placing so much priority on a captive, but his thoughts faded away with the daylight. As the night wore on, Chesta could no longer stay awake. He soon drowsed off; letting his worries for this captive and everything else fade into slumber. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------  
  
"CHESTA!"  
  
Chesta fell from his chair face first. He muttered something, and groggily pulled himself to his feet.  
  
Gatti was leaning against his doorframe, smiling.  
  
"We all expected you to take advantage of sharing a room with another cute boy."  
  
Chesta stuck his tongue out at Gatti, and looked to Migel, who was still slumbering.  
  
"I.. I'm not that perverted, Gatti. I tend to prefer women to men, although men are quiet a treat at times.." He blushed, recalling past incidences with Dilandau. Although he couldn't rightly say no to his devil of a commander, so technically, it wasn't his fault..  
  
"Oh, whatever. We all know you are really a little sex craving devil under that innocent and warm mask you wear." Gatti laughed. Although he was second in command, he was usually very casual and relaxed around the other elite, as long as Dilandau wasn't around.  
  
Chesta rolled his eyes.  
  
"So am I stuck with him for the rest of the trip?"  
  
Gatti nodded. "Lord Dilandau would like to test his skills as a Dragonslayer. He figures that if he was able to kill Zion, then he must have some level of talent that we could use. Besides, we're one man short."  
  
"We can't do that to him.. kill his family and then ask him to help us. It doesn't seem right to me."  
  
"Well, it's not *your* decision, now is it Chesta? Wake him up, get him cleaned and into some decent clothes. He smells pretty nasty, but peasants usually do."  
  
"It can't be helped! If you had no place to shower, what would you do? I bet these people don't even know what showers are."  
  
Gatti shook his head. "Must you argue with everything? I do have the authority to beat you silly, you realize."  
  
Chesta rolled his eyes once again.  
  
"Yes, your majesty." He said, in a mock tone of voice.  
  
"Dammit, Chesta." He chuckled, and turned around to leave. "Bring him down to the cafeteria for breakfast, okay? He's probably starved." He said, and walked off.  
  
Chesta looked at this boy on his spare bed. He did look like he could eat an entire horse. He was rather skinny; exceptionally skinny, in fact. The only thing that kept you from thinking he could topple over at the slightest breeze were his sinewy muscles, which looked surprisingly powerful.  
  
The blonde paced over to the small bed, and gently shook him by the shoulder. The cold pack had long since warmed up, and fallen to his side on the pillow.  
  
Migel's eyelids flickered. He moaned, and turned on his side. He was still shirtless, and.. quite smelly indeed.  
  
"Hey there.. we need to wake up now. They are serving breakfast down in the cafeteria, and they don't serve it more than once, not even for Dilandau."  
  
"Mother..?" He moaned, staring up at Chesta with clouded groggy eyes.  
  
Chesta sighed sadly.  
  
"No.. I'm afraid your mother has died." He said in almost a whisper.  
  
Migel blinked, and was suddenly yanked back to reality. He looked frightfully disappointed that Chesta had wakened him.  
  
"Oh.. I'm.. sorry.." he said, and looked about somewhat confused. He paused for a brief moment, then spoke.  
  
"How.. did I get here?"  
  
"You passed out down below. I carried you up here."  
  
"You.. you let me fall asleep?"  
  
"Well, yes.." Chesta said, shocked at his query.  
  
"You idiot!" He grumbled. "You aren't supposed to let people with head injuries fall asleep unless you know it's okay.."  
  
"..I'm-I'm sorry.. I just thought it would be best to let you get some rest.."  
  
He sighed. "I'm.. sorry.. I.. just have had a hard time digesting all of this.."  
  
"I can understand." Chesta sighed. He had a hard time when they told him at the orphanage that his parents had been killed, just like Migel's. Although he was informed several years later, and was not actually witness to it, he could imagine the trauma was just as tremendous.  
  
There was an awkward pause. Chesta looked up from his feet, and to Migel again.  
  
"Well, in any case, we have to get you ready for breakfast."  
  
Migel nodded. "Thank you for your hospitality." He said, rather coldly. It didn't seem like he appreciated this at all.  
  
"You know.." Chesta said quietly. "You don't have to thank us. You have no reason to.."  
  
"Well, you are feeding me, right? I'd say that's better than starving to death in a ruined village. Although you killed my parents, I'm sure they would want me to live, so I have to grab any opportunity I see.. for them.."  
  
Chesta smiled.  
  
"I like that. You seem like a nice person. What was your name again? Michael?"  
  
"Migel Lavaliere." He said, staring down at the sheets on the bed.  
  
"My name is Chesta.. just incase you forgot. I don't have a last name, or one that I can remember anyway, so just call me Chesta."  
  
He said nothing in reply, but simply stared down at his bed sheets, examining the folds of cloth clutched tightly in his fist. Chesta grew edgy, and tried to think of something else to say.  
  
"Hey.. um, I'm guessing you haven't bathed in awhile.. would you like to bathe?"  
  
Migel frowned, and stayed silent. He nodded slowly, but surely.  
  
"Okay then.. can you stand by yourself, or.. did you twist your ankle or something? I'm not a doctor, but they stuck me with you to take care of.. so.. um, does anything else hurt?"  
  
He shook his head slowly. "I can walk by myself."  
  
"Well, um, good! I'll get you a bathrobe.." he said, and hastily went to his closet to fetch a limp terry cloth thing that he used for a bathrobe. It was so worn that it might as well have been made out of bed sheets.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Oh, don't mention it." Chesta said, smiling wide.  
  
Migel looked about the room momentarily, and slowly, cautiously climbed to his feet. He took one step, as if he expected himself to crumble under his own weight. He took another one, more sure of himself.  
  
"So..?" he said, and stood in wait for Chesta to lead him to the bathrooms.  
  
"Oh, yes.. um.. this way!" he said, and headed towards the door.  
  
Migel took slow and easy steps behind him, wary and somewhat paranoid of his surroundings. He had seen the atrocities committed by Zaibach in the war, and was afraid that some guerilla combatant would jump out at him and cut him limb from limb.  
  
The corridors of the ship were not all that bad, though. A little cold and much too sterile in appearance, but other than that, it was easier to withstand than the bowels of that ship that he had been tossed into.  
  
As they made their way to the washrooms, Migel wondered why he was getting special treatment; better treatment than the rest of the captives, anyway.  
  
"So what is to happen to me? Why am I being treated special?"  
  
Chesta kept walking, with no reply. Migel narrowed his eyes. Maybe they were going to use him as a guinea pig for their freak experiments? After a few moments, he replied with a wavered tone.  
  
"..I'm not sure.."  
  
"Hmm.." Migel sighed, and followed the boy down the hallway. They passed through many identical corridors, until Chesta stopped at one of the black metal doors, and pressed it open. It was a tile room, separated down the middle with another tile wall. One side had a few wooden benches where some clothing and robes were strewn about, the other were the showers. They were two boys showering, making polite conversation between themselves.  
  
It was Gatti and Dalet, both very uncomfortable at being in the same room naked with another man. Chesta hadn't much minded, he grew up in an orphanage where all the boys had to cram into one shower room, so he was used to it.  
  
Chesta took off his armor, (which he had not taken off due to his falling asleep in his chair) and Migel took of his pants. It took Migel much longer to undress; there was the armor, then the dragon leathers, and then the scantily revealing under uniform, which consisted of a lavender tank top, and black pants. Migel had been sitting on the bench, holding the robe over himself. He looked at the strange metal tubes coming from the wall, spraying water.  
  
"Um.. what are those?" He asked quietly, pointing.  
  
"Those? Those are my fellow soldiers of cour-!"  
  
"No, I mean the metal tubes." He said, sounding agitated. "I know what *those* are."  
  
"Those are the showers."  
  
"They.. make rain.." he said, in quiet awe.  
  
Chesta laughed.  
  
"No, they simply shoot water."  
  
"You don't bathe here?" Migel asked.  
  
"No, it's unsanitary!" he replied, sounding suddenly disgusted.  
  
"I.." he quieted himself. He didn't want to argue; he didn't see how it was unsanitary. You were washing with soap, right?  
  
"How do you use them?" he asked, somewhat confused.  
  
"Well, that's why I am here with you. I didn't figure that you would know, seeing as how you lived in Reydeen and all. Not that that is a bad thing, it's just that you farmers didn't have as much technological advantage as we do.." he went on. Chesta didn't listen, and waited him to head over to the shower.  
  
"Well, let's go shower, shall we?"  
  
Migel nodded, and stood, very reluctantly putting away the limp robe that was his security blanket.  
  
The other two paused in their conversation, and took a quick glance at the two newcomers. They turned their heads away almost instantly and in unison, both very shy at having to share a restroom with more than two people.  
  
"You turn this nozzle. I usually turn the hot water on all the way, then turn on the cold water a little to make it so I'm not scalded.."  
  
"Okay, I think I get it.." he said quietly, and stepped under the warm water. It was a little warm for his liking, but he didn't want to mess with those weird dials that controlled the temperature of the water. He was scared to death that he would break something, and get thrown back down with the rest of the captives.  
  
He picked up a bar of soap from a small lump that stuck out from the wall to hold it. There were several other little "bumps" that held a bottle that had the word "shampoo" on the bottle.  
  
"What's this shampoo stuff?"  
  
"Oh, you put that in your hair."  
  
"You don't use the bars?"  
  
"Oh, yuck.. no.. it makes your hair so greasy."  
  
Migel poked at his hair, and even though it was wet, his hair was quiet oily, he just never really noticed until he came here, and everyone looked like they had hair made of silk.  
  
He picked up the bottle, and squeezed it softly. Some pearly colored goop came out into his palm. He put the stuff in his hair, and washed it the same way he had always learned with the bars of soap, except that he wasn't holding a bar this time.  
  
Chesta finished bathing, and turned off his nozzle.  
  
"I'll be on the other side if you need me." He said, and casually walked off.  
  
Migel watched him leave, and felt suddenly insecure, and his nakedness wasn't helping much. Even though being around a Zaibachian in general put him on edge, that boy had been his supporting crutch ever since he rescued him. He slowly picked up the bar of soap, and rubbed it over his body. As he slowly massaged the soap into his skin, he tried to listen to what the other two were saying, out of simple curiosity.  
  
"So what was his name again?"  
  
"Migel. Dilandau said something about a new soldier joining the elite to take Zion's place. I wonder if that's him.." Dalet made a motion with his head towards Migel.  
  
"Poor Guimel, though. I stayed with him last night to comfort him, and all he did was cry and cry, I don't even think the poor boy slept." Gatti said, with a sorrowful sigh.  
  
"I heard that the new soldier is the one that killed Zion!" Dalet said quietly, thinking that Migel wouldn't hear him.  
  
With that, Migel quickly rinsed, feeling a pang of regret and guilt. He didn't necessarily feel sorry for the man he had killed, but for the man's brother. He turned off the shower, and hastily made his way over to Chesta. Chesta was already dressed again. Migel picked up his robe, and threw it over his shoulders. He tied the belt around himself, and picked up his tattered pants.  
  
"When we get back to my room, I'll let you borrow some of my clothing. I don't have much, because I usually have to wear my uniform, but I'm sure I can find something." Chesta said. He started towards the door, Migel once again slinking behind. He didn't want to get lost in this maze of ship; all of the hallways seemed exactly alike. There were probably some differences, but he hadn't been here long enough to find out.  
  
He let his head hand, and watch his feet go, step by step. He felt so awkward here, especially since he already had an almost positive enemy.  
  
Guimel. He didn't know what the child was like, but he could only assume that he would hate him for killing his brother. He swallowed hard, as they headed back to Chesta's room, praying that this boy wasn't the vengeful type.  
  
--continued in Part 4-  
  
--also, some notes.. sorry, this chapter might be a bit boring, but It will get better. ^^-- 


	4. chapter four

Chesta smiled, as he placed an armored foot on the dock. He took a deep breath of air, and sighed.  
  
"Home at last!"  
  
Migel rolled his eyes, as he followed Chesta. Chesta had been assigned to stay with Migel at all times, until they were sure that he was not going to escape. Chesta was sure that he wouldn't try, but he had to follow Dilandau's orders.  
  
They walked through the crowd on the deck, people immediately jumping out of the way for the soldiers. Wearing a Zaibachian uniform demanded such respect, and the public gave.  
  
The small army walked through the streets, parading their captures through the large city. People were silent as they watched them pass.  
  
Migel felt very uneasy, and almost couldn't wait until they arrived at the military base. He was also anticipating Chesta buying him some new clothing. Chesta's were a bit snug, especially the pants. He had to fight every urge that he had to just rip them off.  
  
When they arrived to a large, Grey building, the elite and the soldiers split. The soldiers pushed the crowd of captives around the building. Migel craned his neck to watch them go... He sighed, thinking that he would never see any of those people again. It's not like he knew them well, but he did know them, and it was somewhat depressing to think of what would happen to them. At first, he thought it was a public execution or something of the sort. Then, he thought maybe... they were going to be sold as slaves, or prepped to work in the fields or something like that.  
  
He frowned in disgust. Someday... when he had no reason to live... he'd kill whoever the hell was in charge. But for now...  
  
The small group of elite dispersed as they entered the building. Chesta tugged on Migel's arm, smiling.  
  
"We have the rest of the day off, you know... We could go buy your clothing now."  
  
Migel remained silent for a moment, examining his surroundings.  
  
"Yeah.. whatever..." he sighed deep, and looked down to his dirty boots. They were still covered in the grime from Reydeen... He choked on a sob.  
  
Chesta touched his shoulder lightly, as if to comfort him.  
  
"Oh Migel..."  
  
Migel took a deep breath, and looked back up to Chesta.  
  
"I'm.. I'm sorry."  
  
"It's okay!" Chesta chuckled. "Look, why don't we get you into someone else's clothing so we can go shopping, okay?"  
  
Migel nodded, and watched Chesta turn on his heel, walking a few paces. He waited for a moment, and followed him down the cold, unforgiving sterile hallways.  
  
********  
  
"Guimel?" Chesta rapped lightly on his door. In the Military base, all the elite were given their own, personal rooms. On the Vione however, there was limited space, so they were assigned five to a room.  
  
When there was no answer, Chesta pushed open the door, and stepped in. Guimel was asleep on his bed, cheeks tear stained. Migel stayed outside, listening in on the conversation. He thought that maybe trying to ask the brother of the man he killed for favors was not a sharp idea.  
  
"Guimel?" Chesta poked his arm lightly.  
  
Guimel stirred, and looked up at Chesta, frowning.  
  
"What do you want, sunshine?" He said, sarcastically. He was shirtless, which revealed that he had a similar build to Migel's. Strong, and well defined, yet thin.. and somewhat androgynous.  
  
"Can.. um... the new soldier borrow some clothes of yours? He's about your build, so I thought that he would fit in your clothing.  
  
Guimel narrowed his eyes.  
  
"What's his name?"  
  
"Um... Migel..." he said quietly. Guimel growled, and shot up out of bed.  
  
"WHERE IS HE?!" He roared. Chesta took a step back, cowering ever so slightly.  
  
"He's... he's... he is in Folken's chambers getting his room and uniform assignment!" He stuttered out, suddenly realizing his mistake.  
  
Guimel frowned.  
  
"Fine." He sat back down on his bed, and placed his forehead in his hans.  
  
"I suppose he's a fellow elite now anyway... God dammit..."  
  
Guimel turned on his side, grumbling. Chesta sighed, wanting to comfort him, but he thought that the last thing that Guimel would want was comforting. He collected a pair of black pants and a white blouse. The blouse was somewhat Asturian in design, so he thought that Migel would have no problem wearing it. Asturians were their importer for clothing, so they had the same general style.  
  
He took a few steps back, bowing in thanks, even though he was sure that Guimel wasn't even looking. He scurried out, shutting the door softly behind him.  
  
Migel stood by the door, his hands folded in front of him.  
  
"Here. He had some Asturian clothing, and I thought you would rather wear that, than something Zaibachian.  
  
Migel shrugged.  
  
"Whatever."  
  
Chesta handed him the clothing, and started towards his room, which was just a few rooms down from Guimel's. Migel followed, walking slow, like a man to his own execution. It might as well have been. Migel still didn't think that he had really much point in living anymore... he just felt that he had too for some reason. The idea discomforted him, and he shook it off, trying to forget it. He didn't want a reason to live. There was no reason to live...  
  
Chesta pushed open the door to his room. Unlike Guimel's, his was MUCH cleaner. His clothing was folded neatly and placed at the end of his bed, and the sheets on his mattress weren't in dissarray. Alll of his books and belongings were arranged on a shelf and desk that he had in the room, and there were a few sketches adorning the otherwise stark, white walls.  
  
Plaster, painted walls. He was so used to stone or wood. It didn't seem natural...  
  
Chesta smiled politely, and flicked on the light.  
  
"You go ahead and change, I'll be waiting outside."  
  
"I don't care if you see me... It's not like you haven't seen that before." He sighed. "You should change out of your armor, if we're going to be shopping anyway, right?" Migel frowned, and threw off Chesta's oh so tight fitting shirt, and nearly ripped off the pants.  
  
Chesta blushed, and walked in timidly, like a child who wasn't sure what to do, but did what the adults told him to do. He shyly stripped off his armor, and set it neatly at the end of his bed with the rest of his clothing. Now, only in his boxers, he knelt at the pile of folded clothing, and pulled out a pair of blue pants, and a blue button up shirt. He set those on his bed, and went sifting through his closet for a blue frock to match.  
  
"Do you want a jacket?" he asked, his voice muffled by the closet.  
  
"Sure...."  
  
"How about red? I think it'll look good with the black pants."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
Chesta tossed a brilliant crimson frock onto the bed. Migel picked it up, and looked it over.  
  
Migel threw it on over his clothing, and sat, waiting patiently for Chesta to finish dressing.  
  
"I don't usually change out of my uniform when I go into public... it keeps you from getting hassled by drunkards or merchants..." he said, and pulled his linen button up shirt over his small frame. He continued chattering midlessly as he dressed, attempting with no sucess to make decent conversation with his new companion.  
  
After finally pulling on his pants and boots, he smiled, and looked up at Migel.  
  
"How does the jacket fit?"  
  
"Fine."  
  
Chesta smiled with relief. "I'm glad... one of the boys at the orphanage gave it to me. He said he stole it... how, I really don't know. I was afraid it'd be too small."  
  
"Uh huh...." Migel sighed, and stood. He didn't want to do anything. He just wanted to sleep, and let the world around him go away. In sleep, you could fade away, and no one would notice, or make a big fuss of it.  
  
Chesta stood, and turned to the door, looking over his shoulder to Migel.  
  
"Okay... let's go." 


	5. chapter 5

They had returned from the bizarre nearly an hour ago. Chesta was able to buy him three outfits for himself, and a journal complete with ink and a quill. Migel had insisted against it, but Chesta was quite persistent, and bought it before they could argue much longer.  
  
He sat on the bed in Chesta's room, surveying the clothing that was laid out in front of him. They were some nice articles, but seeing as they came from Zaibach, he didn't think that he could wear them without cringing.  
  
He sighed, and flopped back on the bed. The rest of the elite were at training, or dinner, or something like that. He insisted that he be left alone, so Chesta went on his way, locking the door behind him. All the doors locked from the outside, so that if a soldier was to commit a crime, he could not escape. Migel imagined that this was one of the reasons, but he imagined that there were many other reasons behind the locks being on the outside as well But what were to happen if assassins lurked in at night? Maybe the commander and captains or anyone else of important rank had their locks on the insides of their doors. He poked at the black clothing (he chose all black clothing, save for two ivory white blouses) and stared at the black clothing mournfully.  
  
There was some clicking, and the doorknob turned. It swung open to reveal another boy in blue. He had platinum blonde hair, and large, blue eyes. He looked somewhat like Chesta, save for the way he did his hair. He bowed somewhat, and then returned to standing unnaturally straight.  
  
"Lord Folken would like to see you," he said, and stood, waiting for Migel's response.  
  
Migel sat, and looked the boy up and down a minute, surveying him, eyes narrowed. All he could think was that this boy was such a tool. he was being used by the government. But then again, did he have a say in the matter? He didn't know for sure, but he still stared at the boy with accusing eyes.  
  
"All right." he said, after a somewhat unnerving pause.  
  
The boy nodded in approval, and scurried out into the hallway, down towards some new, unexplored area. It got darker as he went, and the lights turned from a dim fluorescent to a cold, and wintry blue. The boy stopped at a small door, and rapped lightly.  
  
"Identify yourself." A somewhat thin, yet strong voice came from the room.  
  
"It's Gatti, sir,"  
  
There was a short pause, the sound of glass clinking.  
  
"Come in."  
  
Gatti pushed the door open, and exposed a small, yet extremely equipped science lab. Migel had never even heard of this science thing, and looked about the room in amazement, awe struck by the strangely shaped beakers and glass bottles.  
  
The Strategos smiled. "So this is Migel, is it?"  
  
Gatti nodded. Folken stood, and went to a corner. He pulled open a drawer that seemed to come from the wall, and pulled out a blue and black bundle. He handed it to Gatti, and then pulled out several pieces of armor, and handed them to him as well.  
  
"I assume that these would fit, since you are wearing Guimel's clothing. You must be about the same size, but if anything doesn't fit, just talk to me about it."  
  
Migel nodded. Gatti handed the cumbersome bundle to Migel, who nearly dropped it, shocked at the weight. The Strategos smiled, and placed his good hand on Migel's shoulder.  
  
"I wish you the best of luck, soldier. You have been ordered to join me on the Vione, with the rest of the elite."  
  
Migel nodded dumbly.  
  
"Go get changed. You are to meet with Dilandau at exactly 1740 hours. Don't be late, you'll regret it. Oh. and your room is in between Gatti's and Dalet's. Gatti, please show him to his room."  
  
Gatti bowed low. "Hai, sir!"  
  
Gatti walked out of the room briskly, not waiting for Migel to follow this time. Migel stumbled out, nearly dropping the bundle in his arms. Gatti stopped about halfway down the room. Migel cast an uneasy glance into the room that was Guimel's, which lay right across the hall. He swallowed hard, when he heard mournful whimpers and mumblings of prayers or something of that sort.  
  
Gatti pushed open the door to Migel's room. Migel took one step over into the room, examining it. Maybe this used to be that guy Zion's room? It made him nervous. sleeping in the very room of the man he had killed. Gatti promptly shut the door behind him, locking it quickly. They still didn't trust him, apparently, even though he had complied blindly with everything that had happened thus so far. They had reason to, he supposed, after all, he was a vengeful boy, left alone in a world at war. But he could only wonder. why would they make a captive a soldier, a member one of the top forces of Zaibach? Wouldn't that just cause an array of trouble?  
  
He set the bundle down onto the bed, and stripped of Guimel's clothing. He now smelled like the boy's cologne, deep and sensual. It wasn't over powering like the cheap colognes that his father always wore, but soft and subtle. It almost smelled like amber oil. but less natural.  
  
He carefully examined the uniform before putting it on. It was made of leather it looked like. maybe dragon leathers. It was too thin to have belonged to a fully grown land dragon. maybe it was made with the skin of the premature dragons that lurked in the depths. It looked like it would belong to. maybe the selike dragons. They were a distinct race, maybe more mammal than reptile. They birthed their young live, and as they aged, they even grew fur at the base of their elegant, slender black necks.  
  
He had no clue what the actual armor was made of. He picked it up, and examined it, once again shocked by the weight of one single shoulder piece.  
  
He shrugged, and picked up the light cottony underclothing that he had been provided. He slipped the lavender sleeveless shirt on, followed by a pair of shiny, black, ankle length pants. They were a bit tight fitting for his comfort, but the waist line was perfect. He imagined that they were supposed to fit like that? At least they got looser around the ankles. He always hated pants that closed in around your ankles. it just felt so unnatural and constricting.  
  
After putting on the jacket of vinyl and leather, He slipped into his boots and armor. Surprisingly comfortable, but there were some elements of the uniform he found highly unnecessary. Like the two belts on either side of this torso, that came around and buttoned near the zipper of the jacket, making it even tighter than it before. Maybe body revealing clothing that actually didn't reveal your body was a thing in Zaibach. He shrugged, and sat on the bed, waiting for someone to come fetch him. He couldn't get out, since the door was locked. He examined the room. It was totally wiped out, save for a few texts and some furnishings that probably came with the room in the first place. The bed was made with a thick comforter and a soft, fluffy pillow. They smelled clean, but it wasn't the kind of clean that he liked. It was the kind of chemical clean that this whole place reeked of. He absolutely hated it. Everything natural seemed to have disappeared from existence in this sad city.  
  
He went to pick up a book from the dresser. It was blank. He flipped it open, and on the pages were lines waiting to be written upon. So, they provided a journal for the elite. How nice. He growled. What good would that do him anyway? He barely knew how to read, much less write sappy crap on the blank pages of book, that in time would be lost and meaningless to him anyway. But then, there were those boys, those hopeless romantics that poured their thoughts and feelings out onto a piece of paper, liking to think that they were writers, or poets, when in fact, they were just a regular fuck like everybody else. And what good would something like this do a soldier anyway? Weren't emotions a. distraction?  
  
He frowned, and set the blank book on the dresser. He opened the drawers, and to his surprise, they weren't empty. He had been fully supplied with a razor, a compass, some blank paper, several ink bottles, two quills, and another, large blank book. On top of that book set a small dagger, whose sheath was emblazoned with a golden dragon. He scoffed. All this was so. meaningless.  
  
He spun around in shock when he heard the door open. Chesta stood there, smiling softly as always.  
  
"It's time to go meet with Lord Dilandau."  
  
Migel closed the drawer, and followed him out. He wondered who this Dilandau was. was it that demonic boy on the horse that yelled at poor Guimel for mourning? He prayed to the Gods that wasn't him. That boy frightened him. more than anything he could imagine. He was like something that didn't exist, but was embodied in flesh and blood. It was like he. He wasn't sure. He seemed artificial. So pale. even in that horrible red light of the fire that was set upon his village. Even through the ash and soot smeared upon his face, he looked so deadly pale. Migel fancied him being something from beyond the grave, come back to take his revenge on someone. something.  
  
Chesta stopped at a small chamber that bore no doors, and walked it. All five of the elite were there. Chesta wondered how many of the Dragonslayers there were? Was it an entire army? Had he been assigned to the lowest rank in the Dragonslayers?  
  
A harsh throaty voice emitted from the corner of the room.  
  
"ATTENTION!"  
  
All the slayers simultaneously gathered into one line, bowing with their arms supporting their weight. Migel stood and watched in fascination, wondering what this was for. Why were they bowing already? Where was their commander?  
  
He question was answered when he felt something slam into the side of his head, throwing him onto the floor. He clutched his temple, wincing in pain, shocked that it wasn't bleeding. He reluctantly looked up seeing..  
  
Oh god. That boy. He smirked down at him, but he obviously was not pleased.  
  
"You see fit not to follow orders on your first day?" He said, quietly.  
  
Migel remained silent, not sure what to say. At long last he found something he could say. maybe something that would strike guilt into this soulless demon.  
  
"I can't obey the man that attacked my village and killed my family."  
  
His smirk twisted into a horrible frown. He screamed in outrage, and kicked Migel in the gut several times. Migel choked, and threw up, unable to help it. Dilandau laughed, and walked away shaking his head, giving Migel some time to recuperate.  
  
"Gatti." He sighed, and went to go sit in the stone chair at the back of the room. The chair was elevated by a large marble slab, and adorned with stone creatures that appeared to be dragons. He took of his sword, and set it in one of the gaping mouths of these creatures, and let his head rest on his hand, making it appear as if he couldn't care less about this meeting.  
  
Gatti stepped forward, and unfurled a scroll that had rested under his arm until now. He read it aloud, his voice quivering slightly.  
  
"Sir, along with the report, I have a message to deliver from General Adelphos. It is in regards to the captives, sir."  
  
"Read the report."  
  
"Sir. Captured 128 strong men, 15 boys, 7 girls, 82 women. Executed 67 adults, and 3 children. The village was destroyed completely, and we don't know how many of the villagers may have escaped. The Men and women have been put to work in the factories and fields of Zaibach, and the children are being raised as soldiers."  
  
"Like I care. Read the message."  
  
"Yes sir!" He rolled the scroll back up, and pulled another one from under his arm, placing the read scroll where the other had been. He unrolled this one quickly, with trembling fingers.  
  
"I would like to congratulate you and your men on the successful raid. However, the men I provided were a great help as well. Without them, so many would have never been captured. I just would like to remind you, you are not the only army in Zaibach. Don't get careless. With the aid of the silver and red army, we are to launch an attack on the capitol of Reydeen, Filinia. Despite the fact that Reydeen has a highly inadequate army, you are to train your men twice as hard for the next two weeks, for another mission will be presented afterward, and after judging your men's skill, I would imagine it will be quite a challenge."  
  
"WHAT??" Dilandau screamed in outrage. He stood, clutching his armrests, shaking visibly with anger.  
  
"That. THAT FOOL!!"  
  
Dilandau sighed, and sat back down, rubbing his temple. Gatti was visibly shaking now, relieved that his commander did not decide to take out his rage on him again.  
  
Dilandau laughed, and stood again, walking over to the second in command.  
  
"It's your job to make sure that our men will not make a disgrace of me any longer." He growled, casting a glare at the five boys on the stone floor.  
  
Gatti nodded, his eyes wide with fear. "Y-Yes sir!"  
  
He let out a long sigh, obviously very distressed.  
  
"Dismissed. I would like some time alone with the new soldier."  
  
"Hai!" They all stood, and filed out of the room, all shocked that none of them suffered for the general's message.  
  
Dilandau stood still, watching the soldier that was slowly getting to his feet again. He seemed quite amused. Migel took a deep breath, and shakily stood.  
  
Dilandau seemed even more amused by this, and walked over Migel, who was much taller than his irregularly short captain.  
  
He examined the new soldier for quite awhile, until he sent a punch flying into his left cheek, which threw him back down onto the floor.  
  
"You think you are quite the man, don't you?? Openly defying me in front of my men, and even still defying me. What a soldier. Oh well. you lack discipline. That's all there is to it. I imagine you'll make a wonderful soldier. I just need to find the killer in you. where's the rage?" He stared at Migel for quite some time again, taking no notice of the puddle of vomit that was right in front of him. Then his eyes widened, and he smiled.  
  
"I can help you take your revenge on your family. All you need to do. is give me your complete obedience. I will mold you into a perfect killer."  
  
Migel frowned, confused at these words. These words.. These were words he least expected this demon to say.  
  
"R-revenge?" He stammered.  
  
"Yes. you can take your revenge in every man you kill, every drop of blood that you make them shed. Fighting makes the pain go away. it disappears.. believe me. I can take away your pain.."  
  
Migel's eyes were wide in fear. He saw the bloodlust in this man's eyes. But maybe. just maybe he was right? Was it possible that the pain did go away in the heat of battle?  
  
Dilandau laughed.  
  
"I suppose. before we go any further, I should make you an official slayer. You may already have the forms and paper work filled out by Folken. but there is still one more thing."  
  
He strode to a rack next to his "throne". Migel had taken no notice to it, but now saw that rack, and saw that it had 5 swords, in black, simple elegant sheaths. Dilandau picked up one carefully, and walked over to him.  
  
"This is yours, if you swear to me that you will give me your complete obedience, your complete trust. your life."  
  
Migel stared up at the sword, and imagined it's blade cutting down countless samurai from foreign countries. He imagined cutting them down, one after the other. He felt his veins surge with adrenaline, and took a deep breath in, returning his conscience back into reality.  
  
Migel fell low to the ground, bowing.  
  
"I will give you my life. My being is yours."  
  
Dilandau smiled. He set the sword delicately on the floor before Migel.  
  
"Welcome to the Dragonslayers, Migel Labariel."  
  
THE END 


End file.
